She-Fiends of Yaramaj
by Benestro
Summary: "...Verily, I knew then that there was more than one she-fiend in Yaramaj! "


**She-Fiends of Yaramaj**

 **Being an account of the violence that plagued that city, as recorded by Kostio, subprefect.**

 **The First Incident**

It was in the third week of my assignment to the city guard of Yaramaj that the first incident occurred. The incident was unusual only in the fact it was brought to our attention at all, and that the one reporting it was such an outlandish individual. She was a green-eyed giantess of a woman, with flaxen hair bound it two great braids that reached to her waist, clad in a rude tunic sewn from a tiger's pelt.  
On a broad leathern girdle she carried a foreign-looking broadsword in a peculiar paddle-shaped scabbard of crocodile hide, and a wide-bladed dagger in a sheath decorated with seashells. She was shod in soft boots of some unidentifiable animal's skin. The rest of her costume was completed by various ornaments of brass and shell. She was the most thickly muscled woman I have ever beheld, save for an enormous Zingaran woman I saw with a traveling carnival once, but that giantess was clumsy and awkward, while this one moved with a pantherish grace, and had the keen, discerning gaze of a hunter.

For all her savage appearance, she was not unlovely, and hailed us with a broad smile (Flawless save for a miniscule gap in her front teeth.) and pleasant manner as she entered our offices. She announced in barbarously accented Zamoran that her horse and some other items had been stolen, and it had been suggested to her that she report it to us. (This brings us to some points that should be made clear; No one reports crimes to the city guard in Yaramaj. Either the perpetrators of such crimes slay or abduct their victims, or the wronged party is so grateful to escape alive they flee the vicinity of Yaramaj forthwith.) I introduced myself, she found my name, Kostio, to be amusing for some reason. I bade her sit by my desk, and taking up tablet and stylus, I directed her to identify herself and relate the nature of the crime.

She gave the same Sigyn of Asgard. (Sometime later I looked up this Asgard and found it to be a country lying an impossible distance north of Zamora. No doubt some frigid hell populated by giantesses and savage man-apes.) She clamed to be traveling by a meandering route to Nemedia, from some place called Zembabwei. (Another stupefying distant land to the south, purportedly inhabited by dusky, lion-taming folk who dwell in cities of beehive-shaped buildings of white coral and gold.) Arriving in town about noon the previous day, she left her horse, (A gray mare, fifteen hands high.) along with saddle, a bow and quiver of arrows, a boar-spear, a helm, and a shirt of scale mail.(she was very careful to enumerate these items.) with Dealroy the stable master. (I could have advised her against this. Dealroy was in league with the very criminal element plaguing Yaramaj, but more of that later.) Being bone weary from her travels, she adjourned to the nearby Bluebriar inn, where she hired a room and retired to bed, sleeping until dawn. When I asked if her rest had been undisturbed, she told me that she was briefly awakened by A noise outside her door, but having earlier bolted the door and dragging the bed over to block it shut, as well as wedging the single window shut with a dagger, she felt secure enough to ignore such noises and enjoyed a peaceful rest. When I enquired about these seemingly extreme precautions, she shrugged and stated that the innkeeper had seemed shifty and untrustworthy, and that it put her on her guard. ( Her precautions where probably fortuitous, travelers staying at the Bluebriar often disappear from their rooms. Again, more on this later.)

When she rose, and returned to the stable to collect her baggage, which included a new tunic she wished to put on, she found all her property gone. Dealroy first denied all knowledge of her or her horse and belongings, but she finally coerced him into admitting they were stolen. Trying to pry more information out of him proved fruitless, but he suggested he report the crime to the prefect's office. (This was no doubt a cynical jest on Dealroy's part, him knowing full well the ineffectual state of our office due to Prefect Bakabak's blatant corruption, which will be elaborated on elsewhere in this record.) At this point she had proceeded to our office.

I was about to advise her that, due to the current state of affairs, she would be better off cutting her losses and leaving Yaramaj forthwith, when Prefect Bakabak, in his typical state of bloated drunkenness, approached and enquired as to what the trouble was, the whole time stroking his greasy, blue-black beard and leering at Sigyn in a most fulsome manner. Sigyn related her account again, and Bakabak assured her that he would personally investigate the matter, but needed her to provide a more detailed statement in his office. I saw her eyes narrow and she subtly shifted her position in the chair. She declined, saying she had already given the most accurate account possible. Bakabak chuckled, saying there were a few details he wasn't clear on, and then the Prefect groped Sigyn of Asgard in manner so obscene I cannot bring myself to include it in this account.

The barbarian's reaction was swift beyond my wildest imaginings of speed. In one fluid movement she leapt to her feet and struck Bakabak a blow to the center of his face, so forceful that it lifted him off his feet and sent him crashing to the floor some yards from where he stood. He wallowed on the floor like a flipped tortoise, blood spewing from a broken nose, and fragments of teeth dribbling from his mouth. His voice gurgling forth past his pulped lips, he exhorted us to seize the woman and arrest her. Reluctantly I complied. Regardless of my feelings about Bakabak, or how justified Sigyn may have been in striking him, I felt it was still my duty as subprefect to follow orders. I seized the woman about the waist, intending to lift her off her feet and upend her, but I found I may as well have taken hold of a sack of wildcats. She twisted in my grip and her elbow flashed up. There was an explosion of light behind my eyes, and I knew no more.

 **The Second and Third Incidents.**

To my credit, I recovered rather quickly, and was relatively unscathed save for a rapidly blackening eye. Subprefect Ferk, who, while dull-witted, was wise enough to steer clear of Sigyn after she had laid low both myself and subprefect Edrio. Ferk indicated that the Asgardian had stormed out after the fight, saying she would recover her property in her own way. I announced my intent to go after her, but Bakabak forbade it, grumbling darkly that "she would be dealt with soon enough". Exasperated, I returned to my desk to restore order and nurse my swollen eye.

Sometime later that day, I went on my own initiative to the Bluebriar inn, (A house of vice and depravity, where guests were more likely to be murdered or abducted than anything else.) The proprietor, one Madame Sapsut, was a rotund Shemite woman who's matronly façade disguised a procurer, con-artist, and killer. The fact that she was allowed to be at large and in operation should inform the reader of the bathos to which the office I served had sunk. I demanded of Sapsut which room Sigyn had rented, and where she might be now. Sapsut evasively claimed she had not seen the barbarian. I took note that Sapsut was more disheveled than usual and favored her right arm. I deduced that Sigyn may have coerced her to be silent.

Before I enquired further, we were interrupted by Thu-Ateph, the shaven-pated Stygian who served as undertaker in Yaramaj. He gleefully informed me of a murder committed at the stables, which I should investigate. (The fact that he was paid from the city coffers to inter any unclaimed corpses no doubt fueled his enthusiasm.) As we approached the stables Thu-Ateph waved his arm in a grandiose gesture, "Behold!" he intoned. A severed head lay some feet before the gate. I recognized it as belonging to Simbish, a bravo in the employ of Zelome, "queen" of the cartel of cutthroats who terrorized the city. Proceeding inside, I observed Simbish's body, along with that of Xiak, another gangster, who had fallen with a cleft skull, his brains trailing out in the dust. Both corpses still clutched longswords. Further back, slumped against a supporting timber, was Dealroy, sliced open diagonally from shoulder to hip, his entrails spilled out in his lap. He held a discharged crossbow. "A savage battle took place here, Kostio," Thu-Ateph said, with eyes aglitter in amusement. "I have beheld all of death's forms! These men were slain by a warrior!" I felt he may start giggling at any moment. "Thank you for your observations, undertaker." I replied with irritation. "Take these bodies away now." Returning to the Bluebriar to continue questioning Sapsut, I found that she had disappeared.

I reported all this to Bakabak, whom I found alone in the guard office, nursing his mangled face with more grog. He seemed discomfited and surprised by the events at the stable, but merely grunted and waved me off when I asked how he wanted me to proceed. Disgusted with my leader's lack of initiative, and perhaps still suffering the effects of the blow that rendered me senseless, I heatedly pressed the issue. "This situation will only escalate. I'll wager Sigyn of Asgard has learned Zelome and her thugs are ultimately responsible for the theft of her property. It was no doubt Sigyn that butchered those men at the stable. We learned this morning in this very office we are not dealing with some pampered merchant's wife, or a shortchanged street whore. She is a barbarian, and barbarians do not react to affronts in the manner of civilized folk. Whether she sought out Zelome's men, or if that harpy dispatched them to eliminate her after she began asking too many questions I know not. But I do know it is Zelome who is, ultimately, responsible for ALL crime in the city of Yaramaj!" Voicing what I held to be the facts, facts which I felt had been ignored, began to fire a great anger and resentment in my breast. Ever had injustice filled me with unreasoning rage. I began to speak recklessly. "A majority of our citizens have been murdered, disappeared or fled! Most that remain are criminals themselves who live by preying on unsuspecting travelers, or maggots like Thu-Ateph who feed of the corpse of Yaramaj! I have learned all this in less than a month, YOU must have known it for some time! Why do you not act? Would you have Yaramaj become another Shadizar or Arenjun?"

Bakabak, his face blackened with drunken rage, lurched to his feet and assailed me with a venomous tirade, "You arrogant young pup! You dare come here and lecture me on how things are after being on the job a few weeks? No doubt you think your noble birth grants you privilege! But the only privilege here is granted through strength and power! That privilege is held by Zelome! To resist her is death! Better to take her coin and look elsewhere when she does her devil's work! It keeps you alive boy! And aye, it pays better than the crown!" I had suspected Bakabak of being corrupt, but to hear it from his own lips! I was near unhinged with anger. "Dog of a coward!" I spat at him. "You have been entrusted to protect this city and all within! You hold your oath so lightly! I do not! I will restore order to Yaramaj! I go this very night to arrest Zelome, her men, Sigyn, and anyone else who has turned this city into a cesspool! By myself if need be! If you would call yourself prefect, stand at my side! If not…..then Arallu take thee!"

As I turned to leave, Bakabak bellowed in inarticulate rage and took up the spiked club that lay on his desk. "You will do naught but die, whelp!" he screamed and sent a vicious blow at my skull. He moved with surprising speed and I was barely able to drag my falchion from its scabbard in time to parry the blow. The force of the blow sent me reeling backward, and the prefect leapt over the desk to press his attack. I parried another blow of his club, but he produced a dagger in his off hand and thrust it at my chest. I twisted and avoided having my vitals pierced but he carved me shrewdly about the ribs. I parried his next dagger thrust, but was left open to his club, which dealt me a crushing blow across the back. I could not last long in this manner. At that moment, I would have sold my soul to Nergal for a buckler. I knew desperate action was my only recourse. When next he thrust his dagger, I sidestepped and entangled his left arm with mine. His dagger dug once more into my ribs but he could not gain purchase to deal a fatal blow. Keeping his dagger trapped I raised my falchion for a savage down stroke, knowing I left myself open to have my skull crushed. I brought the blade down with every ounce of strength I could muster, and watched it strike above his left ear and cleave across his hirsute skull to the jawbone in a welter of blood and brains. Death robbed his final blow of most of its force. But it still struck me solidly, and I crumpled to the floor. For the second time that day I knew oblivion.

 **The Fourth Incident.**

When I regained consciousness, night had fallen and moonlight streamed trough the windows from a clear sky. Though I was sorely hurt, my resolve had not faltered. Stepping over the sprawled corpse of Bakabak, I went to the armory. There I quickly bound my wounds and donned helm and mail shirt, and armed myself with a longsword and shield. I fortified myself with a draught of the strong liquor from the bottle on the prefect's desk and strode out into the night. I made straight for the manse of Zelome, alert for danger, but heedless of stealth or caution. I saw Thu-Ateph lurking on the stoop of his workshop, and hailed him, "Hearken Stygian! Best you build more coffins! Several of them, by Ishtar!" Looking back, I know not what awakened such reckless, suicidal bloodlust in my heart; perhaps I truly was addled by blows to the head. Nonetheless, I proceeded boldly to my goal.

I arrived at the base of the hill upon which the mansion was built, and circled along the line of trees that surrounded it, making for the front gate. I was nearly in sight of it when I was seized roughly from behind and drug into the copse of trees. I was held fast in the grip of iron limbs, and I felt a keen edge upon my throat. A voice hissed in my ear. "Quiet dog! Your racket will draw every cutthroat in yon house to our position!" I knew from the thick accent it was the barbarian girl, Sigyn. "Unhand me, woman!" I demanded. "I arrest you in the name of the King!" There was a quiet snort of cynical amusement. "NOW you are going to arrest people? I would think the time for that would have been BEFORE gangsters overran your town." "That ends tonight!" I hissed, "I will remind the scum in yon house that it is the king's prefects who rule Yaramaj!" "By yourself? Where are those other curs?" she asked. I answered without obfustication; "Ferk no doubt cowers somewhere, I know naught of Edrio. Bakabak I slew! He attacked me in the prefect's office after admitting to collusion with Zelome!" "Killed him, did you? Good!" Sigyn replied with obvious pleasure, "I can tell you about the other two, they are in yon house no doubt in conclave with the gangsters! I watched them welcomed as friends not an hour agone. I first thought you to be joining them but your weak attempt at stealth made me suspect otherwise. I will release you now. Do you agree to be still and attempt no foolishness?" I nodded in agreement. The blade against my throat was removed and the grip about me relaxed. We stood and regarded each other. Sigyn was unchanged since our last meeting, save for a bloody bandage about her right shoulder. "Listen, Kostio," she began, "Zelome has sent her men to rob, kidnap, and murder me. I intend to enter that house and kill her. Would you join me in that venture?" It was appealing, but I had sworn an oath to uphold The Tablets of the Law, which forbid slaying a perpetrator without due process. I told Sigyn as much. She seemed baffled. "Would you bring the wolf before some old greybeard for judgment after it kills your sheep? I say thee nay! Further, did you think to go in there and subdue Zelome? Hear me, Kostio; this night ends with us dead, or them! You know this to be true! Now what say you?" I had no argument against her, and, truth be told, the idea of slaying all within appealed to me at the time. I consented. "Good man!" she said with a broad grin clapping me on the shoulder. "Let's go, that bastard stablehand put a quarrel through the fleshy part of my shoulder. I'd see this night's work done before it stiffens. Follow!" "Wait!" I said, "I will go first. You are un-armored and….well, 'twould be unchivalrous to…" She looked at me quizzically for a moment, and then smiled. "That is both brave and noble of you Kostio, but fear not! I knew my first battle 'ere I'd reached fifteen summers. I speared two Hyperborians that day, by Ymir! All while clad in a bearskin. Besides, I spied an easier route into the house earlier, Follow!" I did as I was bid. Her will was quite strong.

She led us through the trees to backside of the great house. There she indicated a great leaden pipe which ran the full height of the house. It passed close to a third-storey window, which was ajar and unlighted. "Can you climb?" she whispered. I was dismissive. "Of course." While I had never attempted to climb a lead pipe, and was unsure if it would support my weight, I hid these misgivings from Sigyn. "I will go first, and climb into the window." she said. "I will give you the signal, and then you climb up." Without further hesitation, she turned and began climbing. For a moment I watched in amazement at the strength and agility she displayed as she slithered up the pipe, but then averted my gaze, thinking it fulsome of me to invite the possibility of looking up her tunic. When I looked again, she had disappeared into the open window. After what seemed an eternity, her tawny head appeared and she waved me up. Slinging my shield across my back, and summoning up all my strength and courage, I began to climb. By Ishtar! The pipe was damp and slick, the joints between the lengths of pipe providing barely a hint of purchase. But I managed to slowly ascend the leaden pipe. The sound of my mail rubbing against it was a cacophony to my ears, and I was certain at any moment I would lose my grip and fall, or that some foe would appear in the window above. Suddenly I was adjacent to the window. Timidly, I began to work my way inside. I had not gone far when Sigyn reached out and, grasping me about the shoulders, drug me inside.

Looking about I found we were in a typical bedchamber. I stifled a curse, for in the floor was sprawled a hairy brute of a man, naked and blood spattered. His throat was cut widely and pouring blood. His right arm was severed, but lay nearby with a poniard still clutched in its fist. Sigyn stood by the bed, wiping her sword with a bed sheet. Her face set in grim lines. Behind her, on the bed, a small form glistened palely in the moonlight. "Look not in the bed Kostio; she did not survive this dog's attentions." I blanched and heeded her. If I still held and doubts about what we intended, they were quashed then and there. Sigyn strode to the door, eased it open a crack, and peered out. She jerked her head, indicating I follow, and stepped though.

 **The Litany at the Pit**

We stepped into the shadowed hall. Once it had been resplendent with highly polished lacquered wood floors and walls hung with rich tapestries, now a pall of decay and neglect had settled upon it. Dust and cobwebs abounded, and it smelled of mildew, sweat, and decay. But these odors were near overcome by a cloying, sickly sweet aroma that burned the nostrils and settled in the back of ones throat. "Pipe of poppy." whispered Sigyn. "Aye," I replied. "Among other things. I think I smell the yellow lotus." Sigyn grinned cynically. "Good. Perhaps the dogs will be lying stupefied and make matters easy for us." I suppressed a shudder. For all my rage, the idea of slaying a man while he lay in a drug-fueled stupor did not appeal to me.  
Presently we came to a landing from which stairs could be taken up or down. We paused for a moment, deciding which way to go. Sigyn grasped my arm and indicated the downward way, "Listen." she whispered. Faintly from below, came the sound of voices. We could not make out the words, but one was a shrill, feminine voice, answered by a group chanting in unison. "What madness is this?" I asked. The yellow-maned savage merely shrugged, and moving like a stalking lioness, quietly descended the staircase. I followed as quietly as I could.  
We soon found ourselves a the bottom of the stairs on the ground floor, in main entrance hall of the mansion, It was illuminated by moonlight streaming in through high, arched windows, and like the halls above, it had been glorious in its former existence. The floor was tiled with lapis lazuli; the walls hung with silken tapestries and richly framed paintings and mirrors. All about the hall the woodwork and trim were covered in delicately carved arabesques. But here the cretins who possessed this place had piled and stacked supplies and loot, Rubbish was strewn all about, and the room reeked of filth and depravity. We paused, and still seeing no one, followed the sound of the voices. These led us to a doorway, which when closed would have blended into the wall and been covered by a tapestry, but now hung open, the glow of firelight filtered up through the opening. Stepping over the threshold, we found ourselves at the top of more stairs, this time of stone and spiraling downward. There was not quite room for us to descend two abreast, and Sigyn quickly descended first, allowing me no chance to protest. The narcotic fumes grew stronger, along with another unidentifiable stench. The voices grew louder as well and I began to discern their words. There was a feminine voice (which I assumed to be Zelome's) that shrieked a strange litany, that was responded to by multiple voices. I record it here to the best of my recollection:

 _"_ _Oni-MaLac'thoth! We hail thee, beseeching your favor!"_

 _"_ _Oni-MaLac'thoth!"_

 _"_ _Oni-MaLac'thoth! We offer thee blood and souls for thine aid!"_

 _"_ _Oni-MaLac'thoth!"_

Thus they were chanting when we reached the bottom of the spiraling staircase. There beheld the night's ultimate horror.

The stairs terminated into a large, roughly oval chamber hewn from the living rock beneath the mansion. Ancient, obscene carvings writhed across the walls and ceiling, depicting ideas and concepts so foul they made the perverse musings of the most debauched libertine seem as the daydreams of innocence. Arranged about the wall were cages of steel and wood, each containing one or more pitiable wretches, mostly children, elderly or maimed folk, all huddled in filthy rags and trembling with privation and fear. Near the center of the chamber was sunk a circular pit, from whence rose a column of noxious vapor. Before this pit, standing atop a large oaken chest, was Zelome. She was of medium height, and her muscular and sinewy body was partly covered by a scant tunic of green silk. A hodgepodge of jewelry and ornaments completed her costume. Her hair had been bleached and stiffened with limewater, the tips reddened with some die as to make her look as though her skull was afire. Her face was powdered to the point of an exaggerated whiteness, with her lips and eye sockets darkened with a black pigment. Her eyes bulged wildly and redly, while spittle flecked her lips as she pronounced unutterable syllables. 

_"Oni-MaLac'thoth! From Blackest Gonshu we call thee in the name of thy kin! YrrdrGdnol! Ibak! Yog-Sothoth! Y'golonac!"_

My ears rang and my soul recoiled at these blasphemous utterances. I knew not why.

The dozen or so men gathered about her cheered and squirmed in hellish delight, their eyes aflame with drugged fanaticism. So entranced were they by this ritual none paid Sigyn and I heed. Ishtar! It was as though we were entranced as well, for we moved not. Zelome drew forth a bejeweled wavy-bladed knife and gestured to a cage. "Bring forth an offering!" she commanded. One of the sweating, quivering bravos shuffled to the cage and brought forth a youth, with the stump of a severed hand bandaged with a dirty rag. He was brought to Zelome's side and she caressed his face affectionately. "Poor boy." she said, her voice thick with affected sympathy. "Your pain is at an end, go now, and serve Oni-MaLac'thoth!" With that, she swiftly sliced open the lad's throat. The witch sighed with orgasmic delight as the blood sprayed her chest and neck.  
With this last act of horror, something snapped in my mind. I saw as if I peered down a black tunnel and I became as a ravening beast. Howling incoherently, I charged into the assembled bravos, splitting one from crown to breastbone from behind ere he saw me. His comrades slowly began to realize they were being attacked and filled their hands with steel. One rushed forward and raised a saber to cleave me while I struggled to free my blade from the ruined carcass. As I raised my shield, there was a flash of tanned flesh and yellow hair and my attacker reeled back, blood spurting from the stumps where his hands had been. He had no time to cry out; as Sigyn finished the job she started by striking off his head. As the headless, handless corpse staggered bloodily and fell to the ground, Sigyn waded into the throng of cutthroats, laying about with her broadsword and shouting barbaric oaths to her icy gods.

Dragging my own blade free, I joined her with a joyous bloodthirst. 

**The Final Incident**

What occurred next was a veritable orgy of bloodletting. Foes beset us from all sides, swords and daggers seeking our vitals. Sigyn fought with total disregard for her own hide, relying on speed and agility to avoid the kiss of steel. I, with my shield and armor, sought to protect my unarmored companion as much as possible. I thrust and slashed, my sword flashing sparks upon the blades of my foemen, when it did not drink deep of their blood and feast on their brains and entrails. At my side I heard Sigyn babbling in the outlandish tongue of her people, and the sound of her broadsword shearing through flesh and bone. Zelome's men sold their lives dearly. I felt the sting of their weapons when they slipped past my guard, but Ishtar ordained I should not receive my death wound that day.

At one point I was confronted by subprefect Edrio, whom I would not have recognized save for his uniform and distinctive sideboards, so distorted was his visage by fanaticism and intoxication. I thought to hail him, but he struck at me with such swiftness there was no time to parley. Edrio was no mean swordsman, and we crossed swords nearly a dozen times before I pricked his jugular and he fell, his lifeblood spraying out in a fine mist.

Abruptly, I found myself pressed by no foe. The floor about me was strewn with the ruined corpses of near a dozen men. Severed heads and limbs littered the floor and the blood ran in rivulets toward the pit. By the pit's edge I saw Sigyn, drenched in blood and sweat, her eyes glassy and wild. Before her, on his knees, was dim-witted Ferk.

He seemed to raise his hand to ask for quarter. I opened my mouth to exhort the barbarian giantess to spare him, but my protest died in my throat. Without hesitation she drove her sword through his open mouth so the point stood out a hand's length from the back of his skull. She then put her foot to his chest and kicked Ferk's body off the blade and into the pit. She turned toward me like a wolf at bay. By Ishtar! the look in her eyes! I thought her unfettered rage may turn upon me next. Verily, I knew then that there was more than one she-fiend in Yaramaj! She spoke to me in her own language, forgetting the speech of Zamora in her battle fury. I understood none of it, but from her gestures I gathered she wished me to open the cages and free the wretches therein. I hastened to obey. Sigyn ran toward the stairs. Later I learned what had transpired with her upon them.

Zelome and two of her henchmen had fled the area near the pit and climbed the stairs, thus, Sigyn followed them. The henchmen, twin brothers with the olive skin and ebon hair of Vendhyans, sought to blindside her as she rounded the spiral stairs, the first she ran through. His brother, screaming, swung a tulwar down upon her. In parrying his blow, Sigyn's sword snapped in twain. The Vendhyan raised his curved blade for another blow, but she closed the distance with him and drove the jagged shard of her sword into his throat, savagely rending it. She tossed her dead foe aside and he tumbled down the stairs. Without challenge or preamble, Zelome leapt upon her, seeking to thrust her dagger into her heart. The two she-devils grappled upon the stone staircase, screaming foul oaths and obscenities. Zelome was no weakling, her muscles and resolve were hardened as of iron from a lifetime spent surviving, nay, thriving in the cruel, depraved depths of Zamora's underworld. But she was no match for this savage from the frigid north. _(I later read a treatise from one Nabonidus that speculated that these northmen were but recently risen from apedom, and thus closer to the raw savagery of the animal kingdom than we civilized folk. I think Sigyn of Asgard could be shown as proof of his theory.)_

Zelome cursed and screamed manically as she tried to drive her blade into Sigyn's vitals. But the barbarian held her wrist in an iron grip. With a sudden effort, Sigyn wrenched Zelome's arm back at a possible angle, snapping and grinding the bones together as the "Queen of Yaramaj" wailed in fury and agony. Then, seizing her by the neck and crotch, Sigyn hoisted her high above her head and hurled the witch headfirst down the stairs. Zelome's skull cracked with a sickening report, and her limp body rolled further down the stairs, around the spiral and out of sight. Sigyn paused for a moment. Trying to catch her breath. She was bleeding from a score of flesh wounds and the wound in her shoulder from Dealroy's crossbow bolt had opened up again, and pained her greatly. But she was to have no rest, for the sounds of what now transpired by the pit had reached her ears.

After Sigyn had disappeared up the stairs, I began to release the prisoners. All were secured by bolts unreachable by the occupants, but no locks. This was fortunate as my hands trembled so much I doubt I could have worked them. As they were freed I exhorted them to help release the others. I spoke with an elderly man, a scholar from Aquilonia. "Hurry, in Mitra's name!" he said, wringing my hands. "We must be quit of this place!" "And we shall, father." I said, in an attempt to calm him, "as soon as we free these others." "Then make haste!" he exclaimed, his eyes darting to the pit. " It has drank much blood tonight, more than…AIEEEEE! It comes!" The old man cowered against the wall and I followed his gaze to the pit. There, a great, iron-grey dome appeared, and extruded out into the chamber. It was revealed to be a long, segmented cylinder. Thrusting out of the pit as tall as two men, nearly brushing the vaulted ceiling. Inexorably the thing _unfolded,_ revealing row upon row of hairy segmented legs. Two great, serrated antennae and two coal black eyes surmounted its crown, and between and below these eyes pulsed a repellent sphincter-like maw. It resembled nothing so much as a colossal pillbug, grown and distorted to bloated monstrousness. The captives screamed and scrambled about, some fell to their knees in despair. The creature seemed to scan the room as though surveying its selection of victims. I was near unmanned by the horror of the thing, but I had spilled too much blood to take Yaramaj back from the forces of evil to lay down now. I turned to the old man. "I'll distract it! As I fight, gather these others and flee this hellhole! Go!" The man nodded and sped off. I turned to face the horror crawled up from Arallu. Raising my shield and sword I charged the chitinous blasphemy. I contended with it for what seemed like an eternity, seeking to penetrate it's scaly hide, but at length I was engulfed by a mass of hairy, grasping limbs, some I hacked away, but there where many. My shield and helm were stripped from me, and my sword arm restrained. I was lifted and drawn irresistibly toward that pulpy, dripping orifice. I knew may race was run, and I cursed defiantly at the monster as it opened it's maw wide to receive me.

But again, Ishtar did smile upon me, for at the last instant, a great boar-spear flew into the monster's gaping orifice. It shuddered and I was dropped to the stones, my fall cushioned by a pile of entrails spilled by one of the henchmen. From the bottom of the stair Sigyn hailed me. "Run, dog! Upstairs while it's distracted!" I ran as fast as my weakened legs would carry me, Sigyn at my heels. At one point I chanced a glance back. The thing sought to pursue us, but was too wide to fit the stairway, but such was its strength it broke and chipped away at the stone as it struggled. I felt it would eventually burrow its way out. At the top of the stairs I was perplexed to find one of the captives. A slight, sallow skinned man I later learned hailed from Khitai. At his feet was a wooden cask, from which ran a length of rope. Sigyn pushed me out of the way and went to his side. They exchanged word in a strange musical tongue, and the man worked flint and steel near the end of the rope. It came alive in a shower of sparks. Groaning, Sigyn hefted the cask overhead, "Flee!" she screamed. The Khitan seized me by the arm and rushed me out the front door. I glimpsed Sigyn hurling the cask down the stairs and turning to run after us.

We ran onto the lawn, the others we gathered there, milling about in confusion. The Khitan yelled at them, waving his arms to indicate they should lie down. There was a deafening report as of thunder and I was hurled to the ground face first. At length I rose to my feet and turned. The mansion stood no more. It had been smashed as though by the fist of some angry god, reduced to a pile of smoking timbers. Sigyn walked out of the cloud of dust and smoke raised by the destruction. She was unsteady on her feet, and in obvious pain, yet she still grinned broadly and laughed. "By Ymir! Would you look at that!" She seized the Khitan and lifted him bodily from were he lay, pointing to the ruins and gibbering to him in his language. Then she turned to me. " Thank your gods that Xiao Tsung was here this day, and that the bitch Zelome had not disposed of his casket! Twas the Dragon-Breath of Khitai that stopped that great bug in the cellar!" She laughed heartily, then seizing Xiao Tsung by the head kissed him full on the lips. Releasing him, she turned to me again. "And you! Thou art a madman to charge such a beast alone! Aye, had I been a moment later, or had not found that boar-spear, you'd dwell in its bowels now. But it was brave of you Kostio! Bravery the like of which skalds sing of about the council fires! Come here!"

Never before or since have I been kissed with such primal savagery.

 **Epilogue**

There was an impromptu celebration by the liberated captives that night. The Bluebriar was taken over and many libations were consumed. (I was compelled to lock Madame Sapsut up at the prefect's office for her own protection.) As the sun rose, I observed Sigyn lounging on the mansion's back porch, which had remained largely intact. Taking a cask of beer and two tankards, I joined her. I proffered her a tankard of beer, which she accepted eagerly. I sat down beside her as she drank deeply. "That is exceptionally good beer, Kostio!" she said, wiping the foam from her lips. I took a deep draught myself, it was indeed delicious. "Yaramaj had some fine breweries before Zelome seized control here." I told her. "Perhaps with her passing, the brewers will return and start afresh." Sigyn nodded and sipped her beer in silence.

"No sign of your horse?" I asked. "Nay," she said, "Nor any other. Perhaps they are corralled somewhere nearby, I will search after I've rested." "You'd better get those wounds seen to first." I told her. Her limbs were crisscrossed with cuts and lacerations, and her tiger skin tunic was rended and blood-soaked. She was dismissive. "Mere scratches. They look worse than they are." "Suit yourself." I told her.

After a space, I asked, "What was in that cask you threw at the monster?" She brightened, as though the subject was one of interest to her. "That was what the Khitans call huoyao, a fire potion. Xiao Tsung had a quantity of it when he was captured, and plotted to blow up his captors with it if he could free himself. Apparently that harpy Zelome was keeping those people there to feed them to that awful bug." I nodded. "Thu-Ateph has been wringing me for information; he thinks the thing was this Oni-MaLac'thoth, some fiend from the black gulfs between the stars, as he put it. He wants to dig it out." Sigyn snorted derisively. "He's welcome to, once I am leagues away."

We sat for some time in silence, when to my horror I realized I had unthinkingly placed my arm about Sigyn, and my hand was resting on the small of her back. Remembering her reaction to Bakabak's unwanted caresses, I steeled myself for savage retribution. To my relief, she seemed to pay no heed to the contact; in fact, she placed her hand on my knee and patted it with some small amount of affection.

Dawn broke over the mountains and a cloudless azure vault reared over Yaramaj. The air was cool and fresh. Sigyn quaffed the rest of her tankard and sighed contentedly. "It's going to be a fine day, Kostio." I was forced to agree. For the first time in many moons, it was truly going to be a fine day in Yaramaj. 

**The End**


End file.
